


enemies in button-up shirts

by revoleotion



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Brendol Hux still deserves no rights, Gingerpilot, Light Angst, M/M, Space Mall, post episode 8 but Phasma lives for a reason you can think of yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22372768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revoleotion/pseuds/revoleotion
Summary: “Oh shit,” Poe Dameron says. “I thought you were someone else.”“Obviously,” Armitage mutters and pushes down a question at the back of his head that pops up every time he thinks of Poe. His entire body is discussing to fight or flight, causing him to be frozen to the ground, completely paralyzed.“Do you care for my opinion?”“No,” Armitage says.
Relationships: Armitage Hux & Phasma, Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 10
Kudos: 97





	enemies in button-up shirts

“This is degrading,” Armitage Hux says. He's busy watching Phasma removing every single one of her weapons from her uniform. His personal blaster and his tiny knife already have been placed in a steel box someone has labeled “Hugs” instead of “Hux”. Armitage refuses to believe that this was an accident. Phasma's name is spelled correctly, after all. 

“We sincerely hope that you enjoy your visit. PLease note that in case of any complications, we will be forced to contact a third party to arrest you.”

Armitage bites his tongue to stop himself from asking who, pray tell, is supposed to arrest him. Phasma is finally done with removing her weapons and taps his shoulder. 

“All that for a mall,” she says and Armitage senses her amusement. “They should do that on one of our stations.”

“Enjoy your visit,” the entrance droid repeats. 

“I’m not sure about that,” Phasma says but she pulls Armitage down the hallway. It’s weird to walk around without a weapon but it’s worse to walk around without Phasma holding a weapon. 

“What was it that you need?” Phasma asks when he stops at a shop that sells antique relics. She follows his glare and makes a small sound Armitage identifies as a laugh. 

“What’s that?”

“Books,” Armitage says. “Printed media. I’ve only ever heard of that.”

“Get one.”

“Excuse me?”

“Buy it. You have credits, don’t you?”

Armitage’s throat hurts as he shakes his head. His father would’ve called him overly emotional, weak, a freak for being interested in antique things. Brendol Hux would’ve destroyed the books the first change he got. 

“Which one would you take if you could choose?” Phasma asks as Armitage continues walking. The bad feeling flares up but releases him when he thinks about the research he did as a child. 

“That’s easy,” he says, History. But if I’m being honest, I’ve always wanted a blank book to write in. I am aware that it’s a waste of resources but it would be a relatively secure place to write down speeches.”

“I see,” Phasma says. “Would you give me a moment?”  
“Are you okay?”

She nods and pauses long enough for Armitage to feel dizzy with nervousness. 

“What is it?” he asks. 

“You wouldn’t want to know.”

He stares at her, “Do you need female hygiene products?”

Phasma jumps and presses a gloved finger against his lips. He stares at her with slight confusion but allows this. Phasma always has a reason to shut him up. 

“Women are not the only ones who use those,” she says like she’s lecturing a trooper who made a stupid comment. Armitage feels a lot like that right now. 

“Second off, please never use that expression in public. Ever. Again. I need a bra if that’s what you want to hear.”

She stares at him like she expects him to blush. Armitage makes a point out of not doing that; he just smiles and steps back. 

“So, you don’t need my help with that?”

“I do not.”

“Wonderful, I’ll be, uh…” He points at the first shop he can identify that sells clothes. “There.”

Phasma nods firmly and walks away from him, leaving Armitage helpless and anxious. But not for long because this is quite literally the safest place in the galaxy. He enters the shop and immediately thanks the Force for having a uniform to wear. The current fashion style is a disaster; it’s colorful and unpractical and he doesn’t manage to spot a single black piece in between the chaos. Armitage grabs a green pullover that caught his eye as the calmest item in the entire shop, looks for the dressing room and decides to hide in there. 

“Took you long enough to find something, honey,” a voice from the booth next to him says. Armitage holds his breath for about a minute, then slowly exhales. The voice was familiar but it has not been Phasma’s. He takes off his coat and his shirt, flinches away from himself in the mirror and pulls the pullover over his head. 

“You done?” the voice asks. “Come out and show me.”

And Armitage who has not once ignored a order in his life… steps out of his booth and looks at the stranger. 

Except that it is not a stranger. 

“Oh shit,” Poe Dameron says. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Obviously,” Armitage mutters and pushes down a question at the back of his head that pops up every time he thinks of Poe. His entire body is discussing to fight or flight, causing him to be frozen to the ground, completely paralyzed. 

“Do you care for my opinion?”

“No,” Armitage says. 

Poe is wearing a floral colored button-up shirt, only bested in its hideousness by the pink turtleneck underneath it. Still, not the worst part about this outfit, that’s the huge, flat hat on his head. 

“It looks good on you,” Poe says. “Makes you look less pale. More alive, you know.”

“I said _no_.”

“What are you gonna do, kill me? Wait, you can’t. You’re even skinnier in person, don’t they feed you in the First Order?”

In another universe, Armitage tells him that it’s _Poe’s_ fault that he feels sick whenever he thinks about his mother. And he might tell him that his thoughts spiral down when he looks at food and thinks about his father, and how childhood trauma isn’t as liberating as he had hoped his fatherless existence to be. He says nothing. 

“I was joking,” Poe says. “No hard feelings. Didn’t take you for the sensitive type.”

“You might have to come to terms with being not funny,” Armitage replies with a smile. 

“Oh, you want to go there? Your speech _sucked_.”

“I wake up every day wishing that you were on a planet I blew up.”

“Big words for a guy who started crying when I mentioned his mom!” Poe hisses and looks up to the ceiling when a loud siren interrupts their conversation. 

**«Please remember that all kinds of conflicts must be avoided at all costs.»**

Armitage swallows his rage and puts on his fakest smile. 

“So, you really like it?” he asks. 

“Unlike you guys I wouldn’t lie to you about this. Did anyone ever tell Kylo Ren how hideous that mask is?”

“Yes,” Armitage says drily. 

“How did that work out for them?”

“Badly.”

Poe makes a face like he is in physical pain. 

“If you ever want to switch sides, you know who to ask,” he says. And usually, Armitage would get angry at the mere thought of an offer like this but something tells him that Poe means this. He genuinely wants Armitage to end up on a good side. It’s not about First Order and Resistance, not in this moment. Poe’s face is a lot like Phasma’s voice when she suggested murdering Brendol Hux. It’s a face that wants Armitage to survive. 

That’s why Armitage tilts his head, smiles honestly and says, “If I ever want to do some secret spy activity, you’ll be the first one to know. I promise.”

“I like that pullover,” a voice from behind Armitage says and he feels something being pressed into his hands. He carefully opens the bag and looks down on two large books, one of them yellow and printed with strange lettering, the other one completely blank. 

“That’s not a bra,” he says, not very witty, even for him. 

Poe looks at him, at Phasma, at the bag, back to Armitage and mutters to himself, “I’m not in the position to judge this.”

“You are not,” Phasma says. “Armitage, pay for that pullover, I miss my blaster. Thank me later.”

And he thanks her later. Twenty minutes, after they have gotten rid of Poe repeating his first name like it’s the funniest joke he has ever heard. When the usual weight of his blaster pulls down his belt and Armitage holds the blank notebook between his fingers. When words float inside his head and they may be stupid but they are his and he can’t wait to fill every single page with them. 


End file.
